After a year when so many lost their homes through war or natural disaster, I was especially grateful to decorate the place we’ve called home for almost 10 years and to share it with friends and family. This is where we live and this is home.
Yet another home comes to mind this time of year. The big white house on the hill where I grew up in Tennessee was still there until a couple of years ago. Although the house has been demolished and the surrounding land sold, I can still visit there in my heart and mind any time I want.
I close my eyes and I’m pulling my car up the long driveway and parking between the screened-in side porch and the dogwood tree. As I get out of the car I see my mom looking out the kitchen window where she’s been watching for me. By the time I get to the door she’s rushing to it from the other side, clapping her hands, smiling with her whole face, and calling out, “Nancy’s home! Nancy’s home!”
For most of us, even in the best of times, the Christmas season brings tears. Tears of sadness, tears of joy, maybe tears of gratitude for all we have or all we’ve loved and lost. Each year I tear up the first time I hear Amy Grant’s “Tender Tennessee Christmas.” She sings, I know there’s more snow out in Colorado than my roof will ever see, but a tender Tennessee Christmas is the only Christmas for me.The song connects two states that have been home to me. As a T-shirt I have reads, “I’m just a Tennessee girl in a Colorado world.”
At times, often after I’ve visited Tennessee, I begin feeling that rather than having two homes I don’t have any place to really call home—that geographically speaking I no longer belong here or there.

That’s when the Lord gently reminds me that it’s normal to feel this way, because we won’t truly be home until we are with Him for eternity.
The joys of this past year were many, but we also experienced some devastating losses and far too many memorial services. As we reflect on those who are no longer here experiencing Christmas with their families, we take comfort in knowing that because they were followers of Jesus Christ they are “home for Christmas” in the truest sense.
And until we join them, we’ll continue to be grateful for, and blessed by, our earthly homes present and past.
May you be blessed to be home for Christmas this year, and if you don’t know where your true home is, turn your eyes upon the Babe in the manger and the grace and truth He still brings to the world. Merry Christmas!

Once a week I gather around a table in an assisted living facility nearby with a group of seasoned saints to go over a lesson from The Hope of Glory. This is just the most recent of several groups I’ve been privileged to meet with over the years, but I’ve gotten to know and cherish these ladies in a special way.

Fall is here in all its glory. With each leaf that swirls and floats toward the ground, I’m reminded of what a wonderful time of year this is to make a change. Whether the change is monumental, or so small only you know the difference, it can have lasting benefits. Here are some fall-inspired ideas to get you started.

It’s happened. The sunflowers in the park where I walk bloomed and the back-to-school photos showed up on social media—two sure signs another school year is off and running.
them we love them, and pray:
The mayor of Colorado Springs, Yemi Mobolade, partnered with community organizations and set a goal for 1,000 neighborhood gatherings in our city in 2024. As of now the city has recorded 453 times neighbors have come together for potlucks, backyard picnics, impromptu sports activities in parks, etc., so we’re well on our way to meeting the goal.

It’s vacation time again and I’m thinking about all the souvenirs I collected on vacations past. Some I still have and others have traveled elsewhere, but it’s fun to remember them all.
